


Any Other Name

by retrovertigo (ellameno)



Series: The Great Fire [3]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: 80 year old movie references, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Bonding, Developing Friendships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Families of Choice, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Homesickness, Hurt/Comfort, Kindred Spirits, Loss, Returning Home, Robot Feels, Robot/Human Relationships, Sharing Clothes, Slow Burn, staying as close to canon as i can while trying to revise some of their oversights teehee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 13:37:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8715970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellameno/pseuds/retrovertigo
Summary: Though she's seamlessly gone from client to colleague, Nick makes an awkward realization; he may not be the detective he thought he was.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, I successfully finished NaNoWriMo for the first time, so that's why there was no updates last month. Hopefully this is one of many for December. Thanks for sticking with me on this!

        In all the years of his combined lives Nick Valentine had seen some strange sights. Humans who glowed in the dark, an acid-spitting crab two stories tall, a roving gang of lady super mutants with matching jackets, a Vault _full_ of grey tabby cats. But perhaps the oddest in recent memory was this woman ahead of him, clad in his treasured trenchcoat and humming an old song he hadn’t heard in a half-century. If he could sleep, he’d swear he was dreaming.

        “Ah! _Now_ I know where we are!” she exclaimed while pointing to a broken road sign. She looked back and beamed at him.

        Her enthusiasm was infectious and he couldn’t help himself from smiling too.

        Nick had never turned down this road before. He knew it was a dead end, the old husk of some neighborhood, and what business did he have there? Lifeless suburbs gave him the creeps, more so than the abandoned city. He was looking at homes that belonged to the long dead, either ransacked for supplies or kept in an eerie pristine state, as if their owners would walk back in any day.

        In a bizarre twist of fate, one had. A Sole Survivor of another unethical experiment-- and from his own time before the war, though for some strange reason he was too nervous to tell her. She liked him well enough the way he was, and that was a pleasant change from the status quo. And irrationally he couldn’t help worry that her knowing he was a ghost of a dead man might change what they had, though it never changed anything for the worse before.

        “Wow, they really made progress,” she said in awe.

        Nick peered ahead. To his surprise a makeshift wall had been constructed around the area, like some post-apocalyptic gated community. If he _had_ been down this way before, he certainly wouldn’t have recognized it now.

        As they neared two figures appeared at a watchtower of sorts.

        "It's Vault Girl!" a man said.

        "Are you sure?" asked a woman.

        ‘Vault Girl’, dressed in Nick’s garb, opened the coat, flashing the blue jumpsuit underneath.

        “Jun, Marcy, it’s me! I’m back!” she called to them. “I brought a friend.”

        "Are you a synth?" Marcy interrogated.

        Nick’s companion looked at him, and then back at the guards. "Are you asking me or him?"

        "Both of you!" Marcy shouted.

        "He's a synth." She pointed to Nick, casually as could be.

        _Ugh, kid._  It was clear she still didn’t quite understand the synth panic, or what a model like him usually represented; swift and vicious genocide.

        "Hello," Nick said awkwardly, trying to seem as innocuous as possible.

        "Ah! _Those_ kinds!" Marcy fumbled with her gun.

        Before Nick could react, his new friend stepped in front of him. "He's solid! I mean-- he's really _really nice_."

        "Now the Institute knows where we live!" Marcy shrilled.

        "I'm not with them, folks,” Nick said, raising his hands. “I'm just a failed science project."

        "No. Synths." Marcy said between her teeth.

        "I let you guys stay in my old neighborhood,” she retorted. “Please, just let us in."

        "Are you really her?"

        “ _What?_ Yes!"

        "You don't look like her."

        "Marcy, I'm pretty sure it's her," Jun said.

        "Why does her hair look different?"

        “ _Marcy..._ " Jun sighed.

        "Let me talk to Preston," the Sole Survivor said.

        "Preston isn't here," Jun replied.

        "What?"

        "He's gone on business."

        "Let me talk to uh... that beefy guy. The handyman."

        "You don't even know his name. Suspicious," Marcy sniffed.

        "I can't remember, OK? Names and faces aren't super my strong suit."

        Nick suddenly realized... he didn't know _her name_.

        "Strange excuse," Marcy countered.

        "What's MY name?" she asked.

        Marcy opened her mouth, but soon her expression went blank.

        Well, at least he wasn’t alone.

        Marcy then blurted out; "You gotta understand, we're just trying to stay safe. This is all we have."

        "It's all I have too. I'd never jeopardize my home."

        “I’m going to open the gate,” Jun said, disappearing from the tower. Marcy crossed her arms and followed.

        Nick's companion turned to him and gave him an apologetic look. He himself felt guilty too, but for different reasons.

        _Did_ she ever tell him her name? She already knew his own when they met, there wasn’t really a need for a formal introduction. In his mind she was the New Client. He hadn’t even started the case file for her, it was Ellie’s job. The Sole Survivor, Vault Girl, A Bereft Mother, The Woman Unstuck in Time. After all they’d been through in this short time, how had he not realized he didn’t know her name? So much for being a detective.

        As the gate opened the decrepit cul-de-sac slowly was revealed in front of him. Rusty skeletal remains of once top of the line sports cars sat strewn across the sidewalks, as if they were nothing more than garbage. This was the kind of neighborhood the pre-war cop could only aspire to. Just how well off had his new friend been back in their day? Nick’s old world salary was meager, and he could barely afford the ring for his sweetheart’s finger. If this woman was merely a housewife, her husband must’ve been swimming in it.

        Nick’s distracted eyes fell upon a well built man in mechanic’s overalls, who cautiously approached from a distance with a mean-looking rifle in hand.

        “Sturges! Vault Girl is back,” Jun announced.

        He quickly lowered his weapon, and jogged over beaming.

        “Ma’am, you’re alright!” Sturges exclaimed. As he drew nearer Nick could see his horned-rimmed glasses were smudged with dirt and greasy fingerprints. Nick could only assume it was the ‘beefy handyman’ she’d mentioned before.

        “I am.” She averted her eyes in a flustered way. Nick couldn’t exactly blame her. Sturges looked more like a superhero than a repairman.

        “You were gone for so long I--” He noticed Nick and pushed the dirty glasses up to the top of his head. “Well damn.”

        “Ah, hello,” Nick greeted. He was used to introducing himself to gawking folk, and didn’t really mind it so long as there were no weapons pointed. Though he felt strangely exposed without his trenchcoat. “I’m Nick Valentine, I’m a--”

        "Oh I've heard of you!" Sturges interrupted, awe in his eyes.

        "Really? Me? _Heard?_ " Nick stammered ungracefully.

        "Yeah, well if you hear news of an older gen synth out _helping_ people, rather than, uh, _y’know_... you take notice. Though to be honest, I thought you were just an urban myth."

        "Ah, well here I am in the flesh... er, silicone."

        "Well it’s nice to know some fairy tales are true.”

        “Makes you a little optimistic,” she chimed in, eyes still on her feet.

        “Sure does.” Sturges smiled. This was sure a welcome change from the guns at the gate. “Well I’m sorry to rush off on ya, but I was in the middle of something before y’all came knocking.”

        “Oh yeah--” She waved her hand. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

        “Not your fault, those two are jumpy. I’d watch the gate myself but, well, nothing’d get done ‘round here. But it’s real good to see you ma’am. I’ll catch you at supper later.”

        “Yeah, seeya.”

        Sturges patted her on the shoulder fondly as he strolled past her. Her freckled cheeks turned pink immediately.

        Nick was aware a rebound crush wasn’t unusual after losing someone, though in his professional experience that usually applied to men. Still this girl broke the mold and, well, she wasn’t _blind_.

        “ _Well, well,_ ” Nick cooed, “ _No wonder_ you're bad with faces.”

        “Huh?” She blinked, coming back out of her shell.

        “You could hardly look at Clark Kent over there.”

        “Oh-- well I just... _eye contact_... Not my strong suit.” She tucked hair behind her ear.

        “Oh really? Never seemed to be a problem when lookin’ at me,” he teased.

        “Well you’re different.”

        “Ah I see, eye contact with _handsome beefcakes_ isn’t your strong suit.”

        “Stop.” She pushed him again. “And I already said you were handsome.”

        It was a compliment he hadn’t actually _heard_ attributed to him before she came along, and it rang within Nick’s chest even though he found it impossible to accept.

        She smirked. “But a beefcake you are not.”

        “Ah, well, not many of us could compete with _that_.”

        “And don’t worry, I’m pretty sure he’s gay," she said turning heel and heading further up the road.

        “Oh, I see...” He paused. “Don’t _worry?_ ” he questioned.

        She replied with only a laugh. Before Nick could get another word out, a Mr. Handy zoomed into view.

        “Ah! Ms. Elizabeth!” the floating bot cried out, “Welcome home!”

        And there it was. The awkward admission of him missing her name averted through dumb luck.

        “Codsworth. How are you, honey?" she greeted adoringly.

        “I’m thrilled beyond belief, especially now seeing you back in one piece.” His eye stocks peered around her. “And oho! Who is this?”

        “This is Nick," she said, ushering him forward, almost with pride. “The detective I went looking for.”

        “You mean he's Mr. Valentine?”

        “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Nick held out his hand, then awkwardly retracted once noting there wasn’t exactly another hand to shake. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

        “ _Me_ , sir?”

        “Ah she was just singing your praises.”

        “Oh, mum, whatever have I done of note?”

        “So much," she said, patting the robot lovingly. Nick found himself smiling again.

        “You must be exhausted. Can I fetch you something, mum?”

        “A hot drink would be awesome,” she sighed.

        “Right away. And ah, Mr. Valentine, anything I can--”

        “I'm fine, thank you though,” Nick replied.

        “Come in from the cold, you two,” Codsworth beckoned. “I have much to show you.”

        ---

        Nick whistled. “Nice digs, kid. Now I see why you wanted to come back.”

        She gave him a tired smile. “It's a work in progress. You should've seen it back in the day.”

        “Mr. Sturges has fortified the roof a bit more, mum,” Codsworth informed, “Though a few leaks still abound," he added quietly.

        “No curtains though?” Nick asked, peering at the large windows.

        “I'm afraid such things disintegrated long ago,” Codsworth answered.

        “Along with my clothes,” she muttered, apparently still sore over it.

        “But the television still works, albeit there's no signal to pick up,” Codsworth said, bringing her a drink. “As does the fireplace.”

        “You fixed the fireplace?" she asked with new found energy.

        “Fixed isn’t quite the word. The flue simply needed a cleaning," he replied, switching it on.

        She clamoured towards it like a small girl. Sometimes she was a woman wise beyond her years, while other times she seemed half her age. But Nick could relate. He too felt like a lost child his first few months in this world.

        Nick sat in the red armchair across from her. Dust rose up from the creaky springs. She frowned.

        “Sometimes I forget how different it is," she said. “It's hard to remember how much has changed. I still see it in my mind as the new house.”

        “Yeah, time can be cruel.”

        “Not to you two," she replied, almost sounding jealous.

        “What, you think I came off the assembly line this busted up?” Nick countered. She giggled. “Hey, at least you’ve got a home to return to.”

        “Yeah," she said softly, and gazed back at him as if she was trying to figure him out. He wondered if the sadness of his own losses was coming through in his voice. He averted his eyes. “Ha. _You_ looked away this time," she teased.

        “What, I didn’t realize it was a staring contest," he parried, “Besides. I try _not_ to stare.”

        “Oh. Am I being rude?" she asked, shrinking suddenly.

        “No!” He waved his hand, “It’s just, I know my eyes can be very off putting.”

        “I think they're more striking, than anything.” She shrugged. “Like _hawks eyes,_ ” she added in a dramatic whisper.

        “Oh, uh... Thanks," he said, his gaze reflexively averting again.

        “Ms. Elizabeth, it just occurred to me to say; I’ve taken it upon myself to gather you some clothes.”

        “Aw Cods, you didn’t have to do that.”

        “With winter on our heels I thought it most appropriate. And seeing you’ve already pilfered a coat I should say I was right,” Codsworth replied, with a touch of pride.

        She eyed Nick sheepishly over her mug, who smiled in response.

        “It’s pretty bold to steal from a detective,” Nick quipped.

        She wrinkled her nose at him, and for some reason he felt static on his brain, like an impression he couldn’t place. And it wasn’t the first time it had happened.

        “You know when you scrunch up your face like that you remind me of someone," he said.

        “Oh? Who?”

        “It escapes me," he sighed.

        “Well I hope it’s a _good_ someone,” she said, slipping out of Nick’s coat before handing it to him.

        “Oh you don’t have t--”

        “It’s OK.” She smiled. “I’ve had it long enough. I'm gonna change into something warm too.”

        “Yes and let me wash that jumpsuit of yours,” Codsworth implored, following her as she walked away. “It must be dreadfully dingy by now.”

        “ _Cods..._ ” she groaned like she'd been scolded by her father.

        Nick chuckled with amusement as she scampered away, seeming to be at ease now that she was in her own home.

        After a few moments Codsworth returned with her Vault suit draped around one of his arms.

        “Would you like me to wash your coat as well, Mr. Valentine?” Codsworth asked.

        “No,” Nick said quickly, bringing the coat closer to himself almost involuntarily. “I... It’s precious to me. I get separation anxiety, for lack of a better term.”

        “Ah, forgive me then. But please let me know if there’s anything I can assist you with, sir. You’ve taken care of my mistress, it’s the least I can do.”

        “She’s a joy to travel with. It’s no trouble at all.”

        “I knew you must be special, to choose such an arduous profession in a world like this. But I didn’t expect you to be so literally _made_ of metal too,” Codsworth said with a laugh.

        “Well, it seems she does have a type.”

        “Yes, mum has always been quite special in that way. Kind to every sort, regardless of _materials_ , so to speak.”

        “Hey Nick?" she called from the back room.

        “Yeah?”

        “Can you bring me my bag?”

        “Sure thing,” Nick obliged, giving the other bot a cordial nod.

        As Nick passed the open rooms, his eye was caught by the empty crib and it's off-kilter mobile in what he assumed was once a nursery. He felt a strangely visceral pang as it truly struck him how this woman’s-- no-- his _friend’s_ infant child had been snatched away, along with all her hopes and dreams and carefully laid plans.

        He entered her bedroom with caution, unsure of the mood she might be in. She turned to him expectantly and accepted the bag with a smile. If it was a brave face she was putting on he knew better than to shatter it by asking too many questions.

        She wore a large pullover that hung off one shoulder and appeared like it had been ravaged by bugs over the centuries.

        “Looks like there's more holes in that than actual sweater.”

        She laughed. “Gotta make do, I guess. Til I find something warmer.”

        She dug into the bag and pulled out a pair of haphazardly stitched socks, before putting them on.

        “So…” Nick started, leaning against the door frame to put on a casual air, “ _Elizabeth_. Guess I got _two of you_ now, huh? Ellie won't be pleased," he chortled.

        “If it’s too much of a problem I don’t have to go by it," she replied softly, now rooting through the box of aforementioned clothes her butler had collected.

        Nick suddenly felt awkward. “W-Well it’s _your name_ , I’m just--”

        "Actually it's... not my... _real_ name," she said with hesitation.

        “Oh?”

        “It’s my middle name. That’s what everyone calls me to prevent confusion, because I was named after my grandma.”

        "What is your name then?"

        She turned to him and sighed, "It's Nora."

        It was as if fuzzy static clouded his vision. The world disappeared for a moment and his body rang with a strange resonance he’d never felt before. He saw flashes of old movies, and heard a woman laughing, clinging to his arm. A phantom hand clapped him on his back.

        ‘ _Well Nick, I guess you found your Nora.’_

        “What's with your face?”

        The world came back at a jarring speed, like a light had flicked on.

        He blinked. The girl-- _Nora_ , stared back at him, sitting on the side of the bed with her head cocked slightly.

        “Huh?”

        “You had this dreamy far-off look.”

        “I did?" he asked, touching his face. He didn’t realize he _could_ look that way.

        “You OK there?”

        “Sorry I just... _Heh_...” Things once forgotten were flooding back into his mind, “Remember the old _old_ detective movies, about Nick and Nora?”

        She screwed up her face and tilted her head as if she were thinking hard.

        “They solved mysteries...” Nick continued, “And always had the banter going on.”

        “That does sound familiar.” Nora smirked. “Kind of like us?”

        “Yeah, kinda," he chuckled.

        “Well maybe that proves that you and I are supposed to be partners.”

        Nick felt another kind of buzz inside him. “You really want the job?”

        “Why not? I gotta make a life out here now...” she said, thoughtfully kicking her feet. “And I think a detective and a lawyer would make a pretty good team.”

        “You’re a lawyer?” Nick smiled. Now the luxuriant neighborhood made more sense. Nora must’ve been the breadwinner.

        “Yeah. So much for that degree," she replied looking at the floor.

        “Nora the law--” He paused. “OK I thought that would rhyme but I guess it doesn’t.”

        She giggled and eyed him playfully. “Nick the...” She cackled loudly and waved her hand, “It means detective!”

        “Tch, you’re _terrible_.”

        “No!” she laughed.

        “Maybe I don’t wanna take up with a gal like you," he teased.

        “ _Noooooo!_ Nick, I’ll behave, I promise.”

        She was now radiating a light that he hadn’t quite seen from her. Was this the kind of woman she was before the war? Before being thrown into her living hell?

        “You don’t have to ‘behave’. I like you just the way you are,” he assured. She looked down at her socks sheepishly. “And I don’t have to call you ‘Nora’ if you don’t want me to.”

        “Do _you_ like it?" she asked.

        He blinked. “Well... I... it’s a lovely name but it’s _your_ choice.”

        She bit her lip. “I guess there’s really no one to confuse me with. And I’m... I’m not a little girl anymore, living in someone’s shadow," she said in a distant tone like she was thinking aloud. “No one... knows me out here. This is a new start so... maybe a new name too.”

        “Is that what you want?" he asked tentatively, not wanting to force anything on her.

        “Yeah," she said softly, and then looked at him. “ _Yeah,_ ” she repeated with more confidence. “I wanna use my real name now. I wanna be Nora.”

        “Nora," he whispered, and the strange static happened again. Something about that name and accessed memory was causing a reaction. Perhaps it was a corrupted file, or a glitch.

        His vision got slightly unfocused again, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, as if it was an ocular migraine of the past.

        “You sure you’re OK?" she asked, looking up from the box again.

        “Yeah, it just happens sometimes," he replied, blinking.

        And by ‘sometimes’, he meant ‘just recently’. Maybe he _had_ gotten some water damage in that downpour.

        Nora pulled a military jacket out of the box, and brushed her hand against it gently.

        “How bout that one?” Nick suggested, trying to change the subject.

        “No," she said quickly, and folded it with care. Her face became severe and her eyes big. “That... That's Nate's. It's very old now and I don't want anything to happen to it.”

        Nick felt a pang of guilt, and with it extreme empathy.

        “Oh... I... I'm sorry.”

        He’d shattered her brave mask.

        “I... I want to keep it safe. I'd like to give it to Shaun some day. If my son can't have his dad... at least he can have his favorite jacket.” Nora held it up to her face. She inhaled and then immediately looked as though she might cry. “It used to smell like him… I keep forgetting it’s been two-hundred goddamn years since he’s worn it.”

        Nora flopped backwards on the bed so abruptly he nearly jumped forward to catch her. She stared at a fixed point on the flaking ceiling and tucked the jacket under her chin.

        “That morning we were getting ready to go to the veteran’s hall," she continued. “He was going to wear his uniform and later we were gonna drop off Shaun at home, and Cods would look after him so we could go on an actual date night for once. Starlight Drive-In… like old times. Grab dinner. Then just... _drive_... see where the night took us.”

        She spoke in a distant dreamy way, her eyes glazed over.

        Nora took a deep shuddering breath as if she were about to spill out every mournful detail of her predicament. He inhaled as well, readying himself to help her through it.

        “I want a pizza," she sobbed. “Real bad.”

        He let out a short laugh. She eyed him with her lips pouted.

        “Sorry--” He waved a hand repentantly, “that’s just... not what I expected to hear.” Nora scrunched up her face like she was upset with him, but was biting her lip, trying to keep her twitching mouth from smiling. “I'm sure that's not an impossible task but... I can't guarantee thirty minute delivery.”

        She cracked a grin. “Stop being so funny. I’m trying to mope.”

        “Sorry, bad habit.”

        “I wish I was half as good at what I do as you are at what you do.”

        “Law? I’m sure you’re swell.”

        “They say I have high empathy," she said quietly, as if ashamed. For what reason he wasn’t sure.

        “Good!” he said encouragingly, “That’s a skill that can’t be learned.” She looked up and smiled. “What kind of law?" he asked.

        “Criminal justice. I was training with hopes of being an ADA.”

        “No kiddin’.” Nick smirked. “You didn’t happen to try one of my cases, didja?”

        Her smile became one of confusion. “What do you mean?”

        Nick felt a static snap realizing he’d just slipped up. “Oh. Nothin’. Just a joke.”

        She pushed herself up on her elbows. “No it’s not.” She gazed at him, the lawyer in her finding a contradiction. “You’ve made joking references you shouldn’t even know. It’s not just information programmed into you is it?”

        He blinked. “What are you tryin’ to say?”

        “You tell me.”

        He gave a soft laugh, and looked down at his feet pensively. The jig was up.

        “I... don’t intend to keep secrets from you, I just... wasn’t sure if I was ready to tell them.”

        She shrunk back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrogate you I jus--”

        “I know. The lawyer in you.”

        She looked back at him with eyes desperate to know.

        “Well... I’d... I’d advise you to sit down for this but... Well, you’ll already quite horizontal...”

        He sat down on the bed next to her, as if worried his own knees might give out from nerves.

        “I... I get these... flashes...”

        ---

        Nora took the information... well. Almost as if she was now trying her damnedest to stay strong for his sake. Funny how quickly the tables could turn.

        He wound up lying beside her across the bed, with his legs hanging off the mattress. Somehow it just felt easier that way. He didn't have to see her face. But still she didn't seem scared off. It was more like the jumbled puzzle pieces in her mind were finally clicking into place. He answered her questions more candidly than usual, considering their unique shared experiences, but skillfully evaded the ones about his emotional state. He knew it was only a matter of time before her cross-examining ways crept back and discovered another yarn to unravel.

        Codsworth popped into the room.

        “Mr. Valentine?”

        Nick flinched slightly, not expecting anyone to walk in on them. Nora however simply glanced over at her butler, unfazed. Nick had gotten so wrapped in the ‘big talk’ with her he’d forgotten Codsworth was likely prone to zipping in and out of rooms without warning.

        “Radio for you.”

        “Must be Ellie. Probably making sure I didn't get kidnapped again.” He sighed, getting up off the bed. “Be back in a flash.”

        Maybe the intrusion was lucky; it would give Nick a moment to proverbially breathe.

        He stopped in the doorway, and looked at her. She was upright again, gazing back with a new kind of sympathy in her big eyes.

        “Please don’t have pity on me," he said. “It’s... I’ve had sixty years to come to terms with what I am.” She nodded. “All of this was hard at first, sure, but people can adapt to anything with time. You will too, hun.”

        Adapting was one thing, but he knew too well that some wounds don’t quite heal right, even after a virtual lifetime.

        ---

        He stepped cheerlessly back into her home. Nora sat at her kitchen table, eating a stew of some sort from a very chipped bowl.

        “What’s the word, detective?" she chirped, licking her spoon.

        “I gotta head back," he said tepidly.

        “OK." She stood up quickly.

        “What? Where are you going?” Nick asked with surprise.

        “I’m coming with you.”

        “No, you should stay here and recoup.”

        Nora gave him an incredulous look. “But we’re partners.”

        “I know, but it sounds pretty open and shut. You'd be bored to tears anyway. Mostly walking... gotta go all the way to Plymouth. Wasn't lying about being the only detective in the Commonwealth.”

        Her expression gradually fell, like she was a once eager animal being denied companionship.

        “Oh don't look at me like _that_. If you feel better, why don't you head out and do some training? Stretch your legs, build up summore endurance. Maybe those Minutemen can teach you a thing or two," he said, trying to encourage her. "They’re known to make simple farmers fighting fit.”

        She bowed her head as he slowly approached her.

        “Chin up. You won’t even notice I’m gone," he said. She replied with a disagreeing noise. “Besides, aren’t you tired of my crotchety old ways?”

        “No," she sniffed.

        “Ha. That makes one of you.” He patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, you will.” She put her hand on his like she was trying to make him stay. He ruffled her hair. “If you really wanna be my partner in this you gotta keep your strength up, yeah?”

        “Yeah,” she whispered.

        “Good girl.”

        Nick gently pulled his hand away. He feared if he did so much as _hug_ the woman from his time he would never want to let go.

        Instead he turned for the door, and was halfway to it before she called his name again.

        “Hmm?”

        “Thanks for telling me your secret," she said softly.

        “Ah well... It’s not much of a secret. I usually tell it to gain sympathy from synth-hating folks, but... I dunno, I thought maybe it’d change things between us. For the worse.”

        “It doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been so ridiculously nice to me. But now I guess I understand where it’s coming from more.” She looked at him tentatively. “We really _are_ kindred.”

        “Yeah," he said sheepishly.

        He tried to walk away but something made his feet heavy, almost like his metal frame was held by magnets. He didn’t want to leave Nora, but he knew she’d be safer in this place. Happier at home, with her butler, communal dinners, and her own bed. Even if she did look _crushed_.

        But staying too long was out of the question. He’d be gone for weeks already. Running off with a stranger was unlike him. What was he gonna do? Shack up with her?

        “Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone,” he said.

        “Don’t have too much fun without me."

        “Fun? Without you? Impossible,” he replied. She smiled. “There you are," he said fondly. “I’ll see you soon, kiddo.”

        “Bye, Nick," she whispered.

        The parting words refused to escape his synthetic lungs, so instead he gave her a wink, and went for the door before something stopped him for good.

        Nick headed back down the ancient road, his long shadow cast in solitude by the setting sun. Another visual reminder he was without Nora at his side, for the first time since she freed him from the Vault. As the breeze picked up he noticed a scent on his coat that wasn’t there before, not acrid or mechanical but human.

        And though it would be difficult for a few days, there was new strength in his strides that came with the inkling that this would be the last case he’d go at alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so I kept her default name because them sharing names with my other detective otp seemed too good to be true? Bethesda why'd you sleep on this? (Go watch "The Thin Man" series if you enjoy positive couple dynamics, murder mysteries, and top notch banter I can only aspire to. Yes I'm plugging an 80 year old movie bc I need you all in that cult with me.)
> 
> I got a few questions about her name earlier, and I hope you see why the admission was narratively deliberate. And I'm trying to be as canon complaint as possible while still exploring how these underutilized possibilities could have played out if given the chance. I really like this sandbox!
> 
> Thanks again for the support! <3


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